


All My Afternoons

by girlinstory



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 13:25:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlinstory/pseuds/girlinstory
Summary: Deadpool grinned, though the effect was probably ruined when the scar on his mouth started to bleed. "I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was just trying to kill an afternoon."





	All My Afternoons

The first time Spiderman had seen Deadpool's face, his reaction wasn't pity or disgust. Deadpool preferred the disgust. How many pinkies did a guy have to cut off before people stopped pitying him? He was so sick of pity that every time one of those Sara McLachlan ASPCA commercial came on the TV at Sister Margaret's, he threw shot glasses at the TV until Weasel turned it off. If Weasel wasn't fast enough he took actual shots at it, but he missed on purpose, because sometimes Weasel let him watch _Golden Girls_.

"You hit me!" Deadpool lifted his mask so he could rub his nose, which didn't make it hurt less, but which was required for maximum sympathy. Which wasn't the same as pity.

"Oh, like you won't heal in two min- What happened to your face?"

"You hit it!

"I mean your scars. Are those from all the times you've been injured?"

"That doesn't leave a scar."

"Have you ever tried to kill yourself?" asked Spiderman, apropos of nothing, except maybe the fact that Deadpool had just cut off his hand in order to get out of a pair of handcuffs, even though he had the key this time. That was when Spiderman had hit him, apparently out of sheer frustration at his stupidity. Deadpool hadn't meant to cut off his hand. Old habits died almost as hard as he did. At least he'd stopped doing that with his fuzzy handcuffs after he had s-

"Deadpool?"

"Huh?"

"Have you ever tried to kill yourself?"

There was a strange tone in Spiderman's voice, but it wasn't pity or disgust, so Deadpool was out of his depth.

_They should call us Deadkiddie-_

**We already made that joke.**

_No, we haven't. This is a flashback._

**Oh, yeah.**

Deadpool shrugged. "You tested your powers."

"Not by jumping off buildings."

"You totally jumped off buildings."

"Well, I knew if be fine." Spiderman huffed.

"So did I."

"I saw you jump off the Empire State Building last week."

"Yeah?" Deadpool scratched at a particularly angry scar on his mouth.

"Everyone saw it. It was on the front page of the _Bugle_. You were wearing a snorkel and swimming trunks with my face on them."

_Which we ruined. Now we can never show off our beach body._

"Why did you do it? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Seems like the only way to make it stop hurting."

"But-" Spiderman stammered. "I mean, you weren't trying to-"

Deadpool grinned, though the effect was probably ruined when the scar on his mouth started to bleed. "I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was just trying to kill an afternoon."

"What if something went wrong with your powers?"

"Then I guess I would've killed all my afternoons."

"That's not what I meant anyway," said Spiderman. "I meant the bullets and knives and everything. Do they hurt you like they would hurt me?"

"No," said Deadpool, and Spiderman looked relieved until he added, "I'm used to them."

Sometimes shooting himself in the head shut the voices up for a few minutes, but he didn't say that, because he was still trying to place Spiderman's tone.

"Oh," said Spiderman, and that was all he said, just one syllable, but Deadpool finally recognized his tone. It was sympathy.

Which definitely wasn't the same as pity.


End file.
